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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546631">A Little Understanding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain'>sylvain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feeling left out, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Resolved Argument, Stuttering, feelings of being misunderstood, gender neutral reader, venting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:35:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While studying abroad, you're tired of 'friends' thinking it's cute and/or funny when you misspell or misspeak words, when you get stuck in your stutter, and when you miss cultural references. All you're asking for is to be heard. And for a little understanding. </p>
<p>(This can be read as a companion piece to To Be Seen but is a stand alone fic.) For@whygz</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonardo (TMNT)/Reader, Leonardo (TMNT)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Little Understanding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Winter's chill stung your eyes as you dropped from street level to the sewer below, but you barely felt a thing. At least on the outside. The snow-dusted cars, the holiday window displays, none of it caught your attention while your thoughts simmered and raged inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You seethed and your blood boiled. The events of the day swirled and raged like an animal caged. Your chest ached as your frustrations clawed to get out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Lair, that place of safety and understanding, was almost within reach. You longed to see your real friends, and put the bullshit of university life behind you - even if only for a few hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It grated at your nerves to know you’d have to see your classmates again tomorrow. Even now, those people who you thought were your friends, were still blowing up your phone wondering why you left the library in such a rush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They couldn't see what they'd done. They didn't hear the way they spoke to you. They didn't really know you and they didn't seem to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t speak to them.  Not when they didn’t understand. No, not when they pretended not to understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If you can listen hard enough for context clues, and you can sort through their in-jokes and memes and every little cultural reference… then they can take five seconds to wait for you to sort your thoughts. They can take a moment to listen to what you’re actually saying and wait for it to sink in. You work so hard to ‘not have an accent’, to find the right words, while it seems like they don’t try at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But sticking up for yourself is a losing battle. You’ve tried. You’re tired of going beet red in front of them, telling them to stop and hearing them tell you how cute it is when you’re upset. You’re tired of stumbling and stammering and falling into the stutter you’ve worked so hard to train out of your speech. But that only makes them giggle and coo and treat you like you’re a child. As if only a child is sweet and innocent enough to trip over their words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stomp through the tunnels, your feet knowing exactly which turns to take even while your mind is focused elsewhere. You don’t even realize you’ve made your way into the Pit until you’re walking into Michelangelo’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You both step back, you apologizing, him looking down at you with a curled lip and annoyed frown. It seems neither of you were paying attention to where you were going. But he's set to blame you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” He says, his New York accent almost as thick as Raphael’s tonight. “I’m walkin’ here!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first you’re surprised. You’ve never seen Michelangelo angry. Certainly, he’s never been angry at you. Then he throws up his arms in exasperation and repeats himself. "I'm walkin' here!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart pounding, you’re mid-apology when he starts laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dustin Hoffman, Midnight Cowboy!” He shakes his head as he walks past you, still laughing as he goes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the anger in you vibrates from your chest through your throat until it’s pushing past your lips in fiery words, “Cala a boca!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he does. Michelangelo, king of pranks and jokes and laughter, snaps his mouth shut in an instant. His voice drops low, all hints of exaggerated accent gone as he gently asks, “What? What’d I do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t get to laugh at me!” You’re still shouting. You hear it. You see the shock in his big blue eyes as your voice gets louder instead of softer. And you wish you could take it back. This anger isn’t for him. But he’s safe and he’s here and he’s getting it all. “Just because I didn’t understand doesn’t make it funny!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’re so wrapped up in your own anger at everyone and everything, and shame at yelling at Mikey who’s trying desperately to listen and understand, that you don’t notice Leo step into the room behind you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You spin on your heel to face him. “Leo.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing him standing there, head tilted in confusion, your face flushes so hot your eyes start to burn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby," he asks sweetly, "what’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t-” you start, while Mikey holds his hands up in peace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leo, it’s OK," Mikey tries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not,” you argue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby, talk to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do that!" The shouting scrapes your throat raw as your hands curl into fists at your sides. "Don’t… don’t… don’t talk to me like I’m… don’t call me baby when…” Your fingernails dig into your palms as you struggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Donatello is already theorizing as he comes down from his work station. “I believe you’re objecting to Leo’s use of the endearment ‘baby’ whilst you are in crisis. Perhaps it comes across as patronizing? Infantilizing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyes blink owlishly at Donnie. With all that’s running through your head, you can't keep up. He speaks too quickly and too strangely for you to translate it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You close your eyes to block out the world, lean your head back, and finally it all comes out in a shout, “I’m not stupid!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crash of heavy dumbbells hitting the floor is the only sound as the voices of the turtles fall silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not stupid. And… I’m not a baby. I’m not cute. I’m not funny.” Your chin falls to your chest and you dig your hands deep into the pockets of your hooded sweatshirt. Tears slide down your cheeks and over your lips as you mumble. “Eu só sou eu. I’m me. Just me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Leo," it's Raph speaking now, "maybe we should…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's hushed and you release a broken sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You don’t even notice your shoulders are trembling until you feel Leo’s hands rest atop of them to hold you steady. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you,” Leo says so quietly you almost missed it. “I see you, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hard!” you whimper as the tears continue to fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shrug and sniff and wrap your arms around yourself before you answer. “This. All of it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’ve been away from your family for eight months. And keeping the turtles a secret for more than half that time. Even with the friends you’ve made, it so often feels like you’re alone in this crazy city in a foreign country. You want to tell Leo just how alone and lost and angry you feel by the way people take you for granted, but he pulls you into his arms and the intensity of it all starts to fade away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leo holds you for a minute and when he pulls back a bit you notice you’re the only ones left in the room. He leads you over to the couch in the Pit and sits you down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back,” he says, but you aren't ready to let him go. He kisses your hand before releasing it. “Right back, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he returns, there are steaming mugs in his hands and a blanket slung over his shoulder. It’s sweet and he looks all kinds of cute and cozy as he plays the part of a gentleman. But a cup of cocoa and a cuddle isn’t going to solve anything. However, maybe, you think, it can help you get through the night without ripping another unsuspecting sweetheart’s head off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really have to apologize to Mikey.” You’re embarrassed for losing your cool with him</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leo gives a little nod, but doesn’t push anything but a warm mug into your hands. He slides into the space between you and the armrest of the couch, snuggles close to your side and brings his own cup of cocoa to his lips. "I take it things at study group didn't go so well."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your tears start up again, but you have no more words. It feels like you've been allotted only so many words in a day and you used them all up before getting to your boyfriend. That breaks your heart and makes you cry harder. Even then, they're silent tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I used to feel alone all the time."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You raise your head at Leo's confession. He's had sensei and his brothers, April and Casey. But, you realize, that's an awfully small circle of people to know and to trust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They didn't really understand me. They didn't get me." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lean into Leo's side remembering what a struggle it was for him the first time he opened up to you. And you've seen how hard he works to lead his brothers, to hold the family together. To find their strengths and make use of those in balance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But his brothers so often think he's too hard on them, too serious, too focused on training. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I got left out and made fun of… it was lonely. Until I met you. You listen. You take time to get to know me, to understand."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Leo's presence a solid comfort beside you, his words coming steady and smooth, you calm down enough to find words. You shift your body toward him before you speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You were quiet, in the beginning. Had to listen really hard to get to know you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Pff," Leo turns away with an almost laugh. "First time I heard I was quiet. The guys complain I'm always barking orders and-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lean in and kiss his lips. A simple thing. Chaste. Barely a touch. "I'm not the guys," you remind him. "You can always talk to me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leo snuggles in closer. You take your mugs and set them on the coffee table so your hands are free. But before you can wrap your arms around him, he pulls you into a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In his arms it's safe and quiet and warm. "It really sucks," you whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leo hums as he brings his lips to the crown of your head. "It really does." He lifts you into his lap and the blanket comes with you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon his hand is in your hair, his fingers running through it. And he swears a little when his fingers catch on your curls. It doesn't hurt, but hearing him swear has you burying your face in his neck. It’s mostly to hide and muffle your giggling. Judging by the way Leo takes your face in his hands and peppers you with kisses after, he doesn’t mind the bit of laughter. You know he’s happy to have helped you find your smile.</span>
</p>
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